


The Shadows I Hold Dear

by AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Angst, F/M, Tragedy, dark themes, dark&twisty, re-post from 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-11 04:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell/pseuds/AtLeastWeWontBeLonelyInHell
Summary: „Wait, I didn’t even do it.“ His blue eyes find hers. His face stoic. The devil coming back to life right in front of her. „You did it, love.“





	The Shadows I Hold Dear

**Author's Note:**

> And a BIG special thank you goes to the wonderful clairebare for beta reading!

**The Shadows I Hold Dear**

**.**

**.**

Teresa’s standing in the graveyard, rain pouring from the darkening sky. Raindrops tumbling down her face, soaking her black dress.

Cho’s stands to her right, Rigsby’s on her left. Grace is somewhere behind. And she knows they all fear the worst. They’re waiting for her to break..

She stares at the coffin just a few feet away from her. The rain druming against the ebony wood. If only they knew she was the reason they had to stand there in the first place.

The priest talks about ashes and about dust and Teresa has to suppress a laugh. Jane would be furious with them for getting a priest. But Grace insisted and Teresa had been too drugged to care.

Her eyes rest on the little girl beside the coffin, the girl with the blonde curls and eyes as blue as the ocean. The girl she knows is Charlotte. The girl that’s waiting to take her father home.

Maybe Teresa did the right thing after all. Maybe she just did what needed to be done. Maybe she wasn’t the one to blame.

No, of course she was. And there would never be enough rain to wash away the blood on her hands.

And they didn’t even know.

Why couldn’t they see her for what she really was? A monster. Just like him. The devil’s bride. His biggest burden, his sweetest regret. His secret weapon.

Something out of the corner of her eye makes her turn around. It’s when she spots him. A few rows ahead, leaning casually at a headstone in the pouring rain. His black dyed hair sticking to his forehead.

His blue eyes find hers. A cruel smile on his lips. He shouldn’t be there. They think he’s dead. Blown to pieces by the bomb in Jane’s guest house years ago.

He shouldn’t have come here. He has no right to be here.

But she hasn’t either. Not anymore.

She stumbles backwards, pushes past Grace in the process. And Cho has to grab her arm to keep her from falling.

She looks back at the headstone, his blue eyes still locked with hers. And she wants to scream.

Someone is saying her name, touching her hand and when she looks back down she spots Charlotte. Her small hand softly holding hers.

„Thank you, Teresa,“ the girl whispers.

„I’m sorry,“ is all Teresa is able to muster, as tears fall down her cheeks.

„Don’t be,“ a second voice tells her. And she can’t stop herself from sobbing out loud, when she finds Jane standing behind his daughter.

„You brought me home,“ he whispers softly. His fingers brushing away her tears and she could swear he’s real. But she knows he isn’t. She knows he’s dead, knows he’s lying in that coffin.

Knows he can’t be real, because Cho keeps saying he wants to take her to a hospital and that she must have lost her mind.

Of course she has. Years ago when she made herself a deal with the devil. When she sold her soul to save herself.

But even when it’s just a hallucination, he keeps standing there and watches her with a smile on his face. Looking more happy than she’s ever seen him before.

„Goodbye, Teresa,“ he whispers softly, bending forward to kiss her forehead. And even though she knows it’s not real. Knows he’s just a part of her imagination. Knows her mind is just longing for forgiveness. She still feels his warm lips against her skin and Charlotte’s small arms around her waist when the girl bends forward to hug her.

Jane gives her one last smile, before he takes Charlotte’s hand and makes his way over the lawn, disappearing together with his daughter on the horizon.

And she’s left on his open grave. Rain still pouring down.

She looks back to the headstone where Ray had been just a moment ago. But he’s gone now. Just like Jane is.

Her heart starts racing, her hands trembling and before she knows it she’s pushing past Cho and stumbling through the mud. Screaming Ray’s name against the rain.

This game isn’t over yet.

.

When she comes through the front door he’s already waiting for her. Sitting on his couch in the living room, a glass of bourbon in his left hand. And a devilish glow in his eyes.

„Took you long enough,“ he tells her playfully. Taking a sip from his drink.

He doesn’t even seem surprised when she’s pointing the gun at him. Her wet clothes leaving a puddle on the wooden floorboards.

„Go ahead,“ he tells her. „Shoot me, love.“

She keeps staring at him for what feels like a lifetime. A smug grin growing on his handsome face with every passing second. And Teresa wants to scream.

„It was a nice ceremony, wasn’t it?“ he asks her finally, before he puts his glass back down on the coffee table.

„What were you doing there,“ she whispers and her hands start to sweat.

„Why would I miss his funeral? Took me long enough to kill him.“ With that he starts to laugh. Cruel and heartless. „Wait, I didn’t even do it.“

His blue eyes find hers. His face stoic. The devil coming back to life right in front of her.

„You did it, love.“

The world starts to spin. His words hitting her full force and knocking the air out of her lungs. And she’s almost sure she can still smell the blood.

„You made me do it,“ she whispers. „I didn’t know what I was doing.“

He laughs again. His blue eyes beaming with amusement.

„Keep telling yourself that,“ he tells her, as he gets up and makes his way towards her.

„What are you going to do?“ he asks her, waving at the gun in her hands. „Tell me, Teresa. What are you going to do?“

She keeps staring at him. Unable to move. Tears blurring her vision. Her gun pointed at his chest, her finger ready to pull the trigger. Ready to take away his life. To give him what he deserves.

„You don’t know?“ he mocks her. „Well I’ll tell you. You’re not going to do anything.“

He comes closer and closer until the barrel hits his chest.

„You won’t shot me,“ he whispers. „Because if you do, your secret won’t be a secret anymore.“ His lips touch hers briefly, tasting like bourbon and lust. His fingers trailing down her face.

„And you won’t shot yourself either,“ he starts again. His eyes glowing. „Because no matter how much you want to die, you still think it’s a sin to take away your life.“

She watches his hand as his fingers pull away her own. She wants to stop him, wants to pull the trigger so badly. But all she manages is watching.

„And I’m not going to kill you either,“ he tells her softly, as he takes the gun out of her shaking hands. „Because I love you, Teresa. And no matter how much you might hate me, you love me, too.“

He touches her face gently, his hands cupping her cheeks between his hands. And she can’t stop the tears from falling, tumbling down her cheeks and dropping to the floor.

„It’s over,“ he tells her, his arms suddenly around her small form. Holding her so close it hurts. „It’s over, Teresa.“

And she can’t stop herself from sobbing, her face burried against his chest.

She’s his now. There’s no one else left.

**.**

**.**


End file.
